


Always and Forever

by demonessryu



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Reminiscing, Secret Relationship, no beta we die like men, rewriting maylor's life histories because the author is too ambitious for her own good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21855496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu
Summary: For as long as Brian could remember, Roger had always been by his side, and he had no plan to ever change that.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47
Collections: Maylor Week





	Always and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> It's the 19th where I am, so here's my humble offering for the first day of Maylor week.
> 
> Rewriting Queen’s history because why not? Because it’s an exhausting thing, that’s why, but I forgot that when I plotted this, so I wrote it and then remembered when I was tired halfway through. This is partially inspired by a conversation/speculation I had about how Brian seems like the kind to forget about day-to-day things, but have perfect memories about little anniversaries that he’d insist on celebrating – much to Roger’s weary amusement. It’s set sometime in the early 80s, before Live Aid. Pretty sure the title is from a song lyrics but I can’t remember what song, so yeah.
> 
> Prompt: Childhood Sweethearts

Brian could scarcely remember a time when he was without Roger. There were memories of himself playing alone or in the company of his doting parents, but they were faint, barely more than dreams forgotten moments after he opened his eyes in the morning. He knew that there had been a time he was alone with only books and toys for company because there were pictures for evidence and because his parents told him so, not because he vividly remembered or cared to recollect it. He thought of what little he could recall with a sense of detachment. To him, they had no meaning, just a fleeting and insignificant period that hardly played a part in making him who he was in the present. Brian tucked them away in the corner of his mind most days, to be brought up to amuse his parents on holidays, before being forgotten for the rest of the year.

However, Brian’s memories of Roger were always in glorious Technicolor, clear beyond what the current technology was capable of. He remembered dates and times, exact locations and turning weathers. With only the barest of efforts, Brian could even recall what Roger was wearing at any given significant time or the exact words Roger said to (or sometimes shouted at) him. Roger always groaned and rolled his eyes whenever Brian showed the extent of his memories of him, as if he was sharing something unpleasant instead of lovingly-preserved moments. But, Brian took no offense, knowing that this was just for show from the way Roger touched him after: casual but lingering whispers of touches shouting love to Brian’s attentive ears.

Roger had found him first, playing alone in his front yard. New to the neighborhood, he had wandered in search of a new friend and somehow found it in Brian. There had been no gradual process of deepening friendship. Roger, even at the tender age of six, was as much of a whirlwind of blond hair, bright blue eyes, and personality bigger than anything Brian had ever known, as he was as an adult. He had made a place for himself in Brian’s life and resided there to never be removed. He had swept Brian up immediately, lending confidence where Brian had lacked it, offering companionship when Brian had longed for it. That they were near opposite of each other had been obvious from day one, yet together they still cultivated a seed of something very special that would have taken them years to name. But, on that fateful day, it had been called friendship, one Roger had offered to never be taken back, one Brian had gladly and eagerly embraced and cherished.

Brian’s parents still lived in the same house, perfectly happy to preserve their family’s memories and history. Under their care, the front yard had changed very little over the years except for a maple tree now standing tall and proud in the center. Brian had with his own hands planted it where he and Roger struck a bond of a lifetime. It thrived as their relationship thrived: quickly and strongly. Every year without fail he would come to his parents’ to sweep the fallen leaves, though not before he picked two of the most perfect leaves he could find to give to Roger – one as red as his guitar and another as yellow as Roger’s golden hair. Roger had them pressed and made into bookmarks, slipped inside books scattered around their shared country house and the flat Brian kept for appearance’s sake, invisible reminders of how they had started.

After that first meeting, Roger had quickly become his constant companion, a regular visitor to make lively Brian’s quiet home. When he was old enough, his mother – a tiny woman who had passed her strong personality to her son – had enrolled him to Brian’s school (it had taken Brian a few years to understand why he had never seen or heard about Roger’s father). Despite the couple of years between them, they had managed to remain fast friends. Brian had had no reluctance where others his age had hesitated to befriend a younger person. Roger had been behind him when he needed support, beside him when he needed companion, before him when he needed protection. To Roger, Brian had acted as voice of reason, someone to slow him down when he was overcome by big ideas and strong emotions (Roger was never one for moderation). Brian’s efforts hadn’t always been well-received and many arguments were borne out of the stark differences between their personalities. But, they had always managed to forgive, or at least put aside their differences. At the end of the day every day, they had found their ways to each other, once again beside each other, once again inseparable. They hadn’t known it would be like that forever, but they had always known few things made them happier.

In the years that had passed between then and now, the world had altered, and sometimes not for the better. Brian still took their route when he could, occasionally with Roger but mostly by himself. He liked noting the differences between then and now, quizzing himself with subtle changes that would inevitably grew significant. Buildings had disappeared or replaced, nature had slowly been taken over by the man-made, people or at least the world’s attitudes had changed. The nostalgic feeling ached, but Brian tried to think of how things had improved and what was so right that it stayed. On days he could persuade Roger to come with him, he would insist on taking pictures of them in front of changed buildings and sceneries. He’d say it was to satisfy his sense of nostalgia, but it was also a reminder to be grateful for Roger’s unchanging presence in his life.

And Brian knew without a shadow of doubt that Roger would always, always by his side. He reasoned that if puberty and the expanding world that came with it had failed to tear them apart, then nothing ever would. Back then, Roger had excitedly made many new friends and fallen for the rhythmic loudness of the drums. Meanwhile, Brian had tentatively found a small group of like-minded peers and grown committed to the musicality a guitar could produce. They had begun to spend less time together in the process of learning to define themselves in terms other than what they were to each other. Yet, they had still managed to make some time to get together. Lazy Sunday mornings had been reserved only for them. Roger had been a curious observer, looking over shoulders and carefully studying strange bits and equipment, as Brian and his father constructed and perfected a guitar later named the Red Special. Similarly, Brain had been a loyal audience of Roger’s tireless attempt to master the drums, an occupation that unexpectedly earned him the skill of a nurse as he tended and bandaged cuts and blisters on Roger’s roughening hands.

Roger was the first person to hear Brian play the Red Special in his room. Brian still remembered how his hands had fumbled on the strings in his excitement until Roger’s laughter shook him out of his nervousness. He remembered, too, the look on Roger’s face when he played his first song on the Red Special – like it had been the greatest performance of the greatest song he had ever seen and heard. Brian had felt proud of himself, had thought it was as good as he could be, until Roger played his drums and he realized how lacking he had been.

There was fullness, wholeness whenever Roger joined him, when the steady if exuberant beats of his drums accompanied the ecstatic cries of the Red Special. The music they made together was something he’d never found elsewhere–would _never_ find elsewhere. It still captured Brian’s attention and captivated him, even when it was drowned by the screams and shouts of their excited audience. His ears always picked up on it, the completion that had been the first hint of what they were to each other, and he always looked through throbbing lights, artificial fogs, and a barricade of drums, to the eyes and smile he would never be tired of and once more and not for the last time offered his love.

But, it hadn’t been enough with just the two of them. Bands had been formed and broken, and singers and bass players had come and gone in rather depressingly quick successions. Some had disapproved of Brian’s insistence to keep Roger around (who, indeed, with his quick temper had been the cause of many band members leaving). But, Roger’s presence had been and would always be non-negotiable. Brian would compromise, would agree to change his ways if given decent enough reasons, would even sacrifice his ideas and preferences, but he would never leave Roger. There wouldn’t be Brian without Roger or Roger without Brian. He had persisted, resisted, and insisted, until Freddie and John came along and proved him right to keep Roger with him. But, it hadn’t been an instant story of success. They had each pursued other options: Roger had run a clothing stall and Brian had continued his studies. They had kept getting back to music, but there had always been a nagging unvoiced fear of failing, falling without a net to catch them. Even Roger’s determination and optimism could only go so far. Roger had run his stall with utmost shrewdness to ensure there was always some profit to pay for food and rent, while Brian had pursued careers in various branches of science by using the knowledge he had painstakingly gained. Those had been exhausting hungry days carefully hidden from their worried parents, made slightly easier by cheap lunches and tea they could sometimes afford when they caught up with the slow progresses of their lives. They had moaned and encouraged, hoped and doubted, but never questioned the silent understanding that whatever might come, they would always have each other to lean on.

Brian revisited his unfinished thesis once in a while. It was a niggling weight at the back of his mind, an unfinished project that dimly called for his old passion and dedication. But, there was a reason why he had abandoned it after a time – it had seemed like it was going nowhere and music seemed to at least lead to survival. Still, he read it sometimes, aloud with Roger beside him, TV or radio turned down low into an indistinct background murmur. When he reached the final passage and a feeling of guilt and unsettlement started to sink in, Roger leaned heavily on him and tell him with pure conviction that he would finish it someday with improvements he couldn’t even think about today. It seemed like an impossible prediction, but so had been their success, so Brian would put his head on Roger’s shoulder, close his eyes and allow himself to believe.

Back then, instead of meteoric rise, Queen had started out slowly and with numerous mistakes. However, the four of them – Freddie, John, Brian and Roger – proved to be the winning combination. The final formation of Queen had been the beginning of a distant dream and hazy imaginings turning into a promise of reality. Freddie had quickly and rightly claimed the center stage he’d occasionally share with Brian, while John quietly stood on the side to amplify the hugeness of the noises of Roger’s drums. They had then gone to places they hadn’t thought to ever visit, met people they hadn’t thought existed, made memories they hadn’t thought possible to create. It had astonished Brian (and still did) when he realized people knew them, admired them, and in some memorable occasions even propositioned them. Their boldness had grown and so had their goals, and this time, unlike before, these seemed within their reach, only a matter of time before happening. Still, their slow but steady ascend to massive success had been a surprise and their ever growing fame had been no less than shocking. Every day had been – and still was – exciting. They had become almost fearless of the unknown despite knowing there had been and would always be some chances of disappointment. In the midst of this exhilarating unpredictability, the brief but poignant realization in one in-between moment between one blinding stage and another, in a cramped bus that couldn’t possibly be less glamorous that the lifestyle they had been promised, in an uncomfortable seat with Roger’s head on his shoulder while he slept, had been as expected as breathing.

Of course Brian loved him. How could he not when he knew Roger as well as he knew himself, when Roger was his one constant in life, when Roger’s companionship was all he ever needed to live? Loving Roger was as easy and natural as could be. His love left no room for guilt or self-hatred. There had been no suffering, even when Roger chose girls over him, no pining or longing to speak of as Roger, at the end of the day, would always without fail be beside him, leaning toward him, talking to him in hushed tone reserved for when they were in private, looking at him with something Brian recognized but Roger hadn’t yet understood. Brian still thought of these small moments warmly, of fingers whispering over skin, of drowning in the faint scent of familiar cologne, of watching the plays of lights and shadows fair skin and bright outfits, of listening to privately shared dreams and happiness, and of speaking to unknowing ears secret words of love. Roger wasn’t the sort to make a big deal out of little anniversaries, but every year Brian always cleared their schedules to hold him especially tightly and kissed him especially tenderly on the day he had gathered his courage to, for the first time, hold Roger’s hand, not in the friendly way they sometimes did or the playful way when the mood struck, but in the way that was unmistakably laden with devoted intent and undying affection.

“Where exactly are we going?” Roger asked as he followed Brian’s direction.

Without any audience, Roger had replaced his usual dark glasses with normal ones. From the passenger seat, Brian quietly admired this view– he always loved being able to see Roger’s eyes. “We’re almost there,” Brian replied when he realized Roger expected an answer.

Roger glanced at him in suspicion, but didn’t argue, used to Brian’s sentimental whims. Once in a while, they would go on unplanned trips to satisfy Brian’s nostalgia, crossing borders and seas to see places that held significance for them. They would travel under the cover of night with only a suitcase or two and plain clothes instead of the fancy ones they wore on stage or in front of cameras. It had been easier in the past when they were unknown. Now, it was a big production just to get on a plane and go to somewhere they could kiss and hold hands without worrying about how it might affect Queen. But, despite the tired sighs and groans of annoyance, it was always worth it let go of the burden of unreasonable expectations and have Roger in his arms, complaining about the difficult trip but holding Brian back with equal gentleness as they recalled the sweet past that would never return, the happy present they now lived in, and the promising future yet to come.

A streetlamp revealed Roger’s minute expression of recognition when they turned at a corner. Without further direction, as this was a place he knew by heart, he stopped their car at a darkened park. As they exited the vehicle, there was a brief moment of habitual cautiousness as they looked around for intrusive cameras and curious eyes. But, upon finding none, they found their ways to each other, walking down a narrow path side by side, too intimate for friendship but too distant for lovers. Brian noticed Roger taking another look around before linking their fingers together and hiding their hands in the folds of his thick coat. It reminded Brian of a small hand extended in offer of friendship that became his whole world, made him think of change and permanence, filled him with safety and love he always felt around Roger. He squeezed Roger’s strong hand and saw the corner of his lip ticked up in response.

Without words, Roger led them to a spot they had occupied one night many years ago to sit and stargaze and kiss under the stars’ gaze. It would have taken Brian a long time to find the exact place, but Roger’s memory was near flawless. In silent agreement, they sat down on cool grass, intertwined fingers between them safely hidden under protective layers of cloths. Brian fondly recalled the mild amusement and exasperated relief that had greeted them the first time they nervously held hands before their friends and relatives. It had been quite mortifying to be told how everyone had been waiting for that for a long time and to hear about little moments Brian hadn’t noticed but left sizeable impression on their silent (and somewhat impatient) observers. For quite a while, not helped by relentless though well-meaning teasing, it was been a source of Brian’s embarrassment. Now, it was an amusing story to be told and retold on holidays, old but new at the same time, as they sat side by side and shared looks and kisses with no effort to conceal what they had from those they trusted with their lives.

“I wonder if we can find Orion,” Brian said, looking up to the dark heaven above.

“Why? Has it moved somewhere?” Roger retorted, but he hummed in polite interest when Brian pointed the constellation out for him.

“I’d forgotten how well we can see the sky from here,” Brian commented with absentminded joy, always happy to revisit one of his greatest life passions.

Roger, who most probably hadn’t forgotten, agreed. “There are more lights now, though. It used to be darker ‘round here.” He snorted. “I thought you’d gone mad asking me to come here with you back then. You could’ve gotten us in trouble.”

“There’s nothing wrong with stargazing,” Brian said in defense, but he knew that wasn’t what Roger was talking about. Feeling bold, he brought their tangled hands to his lap to prove his point.

Roger looked at their hands and quirked an eyebrow. “Or with hand holding,” he added loudly.

“Of course not,” Brian agreed, warmth in his narrow chest emanating from the heart stolen by the man beside him.

“Or kisses,” Roger said again, his volume increasing. “Or se-”

“ _Roger_ ,” Brian warned him lightly, face coloring.

Roger shrugged, looking mighty pleased with himself for ruffling Brian’s feathers. “It’s quite nice here.” He tilted his head back and took a deep breath. It wasn’t quite the same fresh air as what they had in their country house, but it seemed to please him well enough. He basked under the golden glow of nearby a streetlight as he would under the sun and Brian’s love for him somehow found a way to expand. “We’re not here to see the zodiacal light, are we? It’s still hours away from showing,” Roger asked warily with the knowledge of someone regularly brought against his better judgment to gaze at the night sky.

“No. Staying at a public park for hours at night is a sort of thing that will get us in trouble,” Brian teased him.

Not rising to the bait, Roger hummed. He might not mind occasionally accompanying Brian looking up to the darkened heaven, but staying well until dawn was usually asking too much from him. “We haven’t been to Tenerife in a while.”

“Oh?” Brian blinked rapidly in surprise. “You don’t really like the place,” Brian pointed out. They both liked sunny locations, but where Brian liked Tenerife observation spots for its barren and thus obstructed view of the sky, Roger was more drawn to the promising cheer of blue seas and white shorelines.

“And you don’t like car races,” Roger returned without looking, referring to their most recent visit to Monaco to watch the Grand Prix. Brian had played the part of a bored friend with nothing better to do when it had been his decision to go so he could see Roger’s wide smiles and bright eyes under the warm Mediterranean sun when he held him in the privacy of his hotel room. Roger’s lips quirked up and he squeezed Brian’s hand. “Love is a compromise.”

A smile grew on Brian’s face, earnest and full of love. Overwhelming affection blossomed in his heart like air expanded his lungs with every breath and blood coursed through his veins with every heartbeat. It had always been there since they met, growing stronger each second they spent together, suffusing every fiber of his being, transcending minor things like atoms to rest deep and safe nestled in his soul. His love for Roger was inseparable from who he was, having a hand in shaping him without molding him into a shape he was not. It helped him become the person that part of the world seemed to think was worth admiring – not perfect, far from ideal, but still the best version of him. Where he was lacking, Roger complemented. The jagged edges of their difference no longer cut, just lightly abraded, just a reminder that they were each separate individual who was just flawed and perfect enough to be loved by one another. Brian reached into his pocket for item he had painstakingly hidden from Roger and turned Roger’s hand so that his palm was facing upward. Then, Roger finally glanced to him. His eyes widened when he saw the velvet box Brian had placed on his palm, the small lid open to display a humble offering of a silver band.

“Will you marry me?”

Roger’s eyes flew from the ring to him, wide in astonishment. There was no self-composure the media was often graced with, no mask of coolness their fans admired and adored. Before Brian now he was laid bare, a private self very few had the privilege of knowing, nothing more or less than who he was: the man Brian loved with all his heart. Brian waited, (un)surprisingly sure of himself. They had had conversations before, fleeting wistful talks of what could be for their future. They had never drawn any verbal conclusion, but Brian knew what it was from the way they always found their way to each other, the look they gave to no one else, the laughter and tears they shared in private, the dreams and fears they told no other person, the tender kisses in their bedroom or whenever no one looked, the gentle look of utter contentment and bliss in slow private days, the grins and looks of pride and relief in exhilarating hours in front of cameras or on stages. Brian knew. He just needed to hear it for himself.

After a long moment of shocked silence, Roger cleared his throat. He tried to put on a look of unimpressed indifference, but behind his glasses his eyes brightened and his lips twitched up. “You have to ask?”

“I kind of have to,” Brian replied with a soft smile.

Roger huffed and rolled his eyes. But, then he leaned to Brian and gave him the sweetest lingering kiss that gave a pause of Brian’s love-full heart. When Roger drew away, even in the dim light, Brian could see his love shining bright. “Yeah, I will,” he answered with not a sliver of doubt.

Brian put the ring on Roger’s finger with a steady hand and kissed it to seal an unspoken but well-understood vow of love and devotion. There would be no wedding for them, no religious ceremony or legal paper to confirm and affirm their commitment. At least not any time soon. The world wasn’t ready for those like them, but who knew what the future might bring? They had been once ordinary boys and now they were men regularly performing on the world’s biggest stages before massive crowds. For all Brian knew, everything and anything was possible with Roger. Maybe one day the world would know their love, maybe only they would keep it only to their trusted friends and family, maybe they would fulfill their vows and get properly married, maybe they would simply remain side by side in contentment for the rest of their days. But, whatever the days to come had in store, they would face it how they had started: side by side, powerful as the music they made together and steady as the spinning of the earth under them, strengthened by devotion and gentled by love, fearless and dearly loved as they carved their own way in the uncomprehending world.

**Author's Note:**

> I nearly ended this just with Brian giving Roger the box, but I ended up not being able to help myself. Pretty glad I changed my mind tbh. That last scene assumes that there’s zero chance of crime happening in mostly-empty parks in the middle of the night. I was going to google crime rate in Hyde Park in the 80s but that’s far too exacting for my sanity. I also might have teared up a bit when editing the proposal but hush.
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) where my fanworks never show up on the proper tag(s).


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